4.11

it would hurt
to be the last woman standing
in this place that God
seems to have forgotten 
one day
I’m gonna open the door
and walk out
doesn’t matter
if the door closes back
or not

# NewWorkinProgression

(c) 2016 wyh

Monday 4.4

I go wherever my ink leads
and write
for love
for peace
I write to bring light
into dark places
so others can see.

Life...matters

All life matters
from conception
to the grave
no matter what color
language
affirmation
education
affiliation
or ethnicity
if it lives and breathes
it matters
if it's alive
who is anyone to kill
or to pick and choose
which one is superior
or inferior
or civilized
or has the right to life
listen to what you are saying
look at the signs you carry
the causes you march for
if you say all life matters
you can't pick and choose
whose life you save
~Selah

I Want My Poetry to...

I want my poetry to take you on an unexpected journey

on a weightless flight

where there is no room for slow moving souls

who have no destination

so follow me.

I want my poetry to be your traveling companion

where the only music playing

is the sound of urban air rising from beneath your feet

as you listen

so dance with me.

And when this voyage is over

I want my poetry to leave you

wanting to write your own story

before the dust settles on this path

for others to follow

after you have walked with me.

News...

High winds and storms blow through the northeast again with no end in sight…while hundreds of people run for cover out of the path of the howling torrents, huddled in fear…the ozone layer experiences record loss and the sun will scorch the earth’s atmosphere after Japan’s ocean radiation hits 7.5, the legal limit... as the crafty photographers show off nature’s secrets… somebody please run and tell them to  hurry and take all of the pictures they can because those secrets are quickly becoming copywritten history…and somewhere else a woman can no longer swim in her pool since the city condemned it but she still has to pay the taxes … Marvin sang a song for all times, way before time ran out for him…and the music continues to play on from vinyl to 8-track to cassette to CD to Mp3…Mercy Mercy Me, The Ecology…

 

 

 

Poets...Everywhere

Poets are everywhere…you will find them in the most hideous of places writing beautiful lines to change the scenery/cool man, cool to the beatnik cadence of fingers snapping and minds tuning into reality and escaping from the fake world/signing their autographs on every open mic list in town for that one opportunity to bring light to somebody’s dark walk/…yes, Poets are everywhere.

 

Growing Pains..palindrome

 

Angry feeling

spiraling downwards towards

moments of cycling viciously

spent wasting time remembering

past pains held inside …

her rejected neglected teenager still unloved

misunderstood sometimes motherless child crying running fast

forgetting and growing into drama and

womanhood without

Father

without womanhood

and drama into growing and forgetting

fast running crying child motherless sometimes misunderstood

unloved still teenager neglected rejected her

inside held pains past…

remembering time wasting spent

viciously cycling of moments

towards downwards spiraling

feeling Angry

RED ZONE REVOLUTION

in honor of those who paint, write and sing
in RED, BLACK and GREEN
standing for the uprising
... insurrection and rebellion
against the atrocities of injustice committed by those who will escape unseen
putting pen to paper
and living dangerously in Real Evolutionary Determination
with weapons of ink
spilling literary bloodshed
spitting truth to the masses
the freedom fighters
willing to ride or die for what they believe
The Red Zone Revolution
is here to stay
showing the colors of life
and the order of the day

listen...

listen…

originality breeds contempt

and the honest reality of my words doesn’t always sit well with those who hear

it makes them feel uncomfortable

but that is the whole purpose of poetry

so listen

and free

your minds…

give these lines the chance to penetrate beneath the hard surface of your opinions

and hear what’s in my heart.

you might find out that it’s not too different to what’s in yours

and we will find a common ground

beyond that cup of coffee

and anonymous snaps

originality could become a new way of life

and maybe end some wars

feed some children

and save some souls...

you never know

so listen...

Day #18...poetics

word and sound

life and love

giving and receiving

connecting and separating

near and distant

alike and opposite

old and new

spirits and souls

bodies converging and complementing

minds exploding and melting

brevity and longevity

full and empty

forgiving and reliving

poetics

the night the dance died

the night the dance died

bruised feet stepping lightly over paved floors

cold tiles sending spine tingling waves of electricity through the body

keeping the beat to the rhythm of the melody

high praise with extended limbs and fallen arches on releve

toes tagged on the slab of betrayal...

the night the dance died

mingling words of half-truth and untruth

roots of bitterness weaving their way between the threads of the soul

unknown entities telling stories entitled with sorrow...

the night the dance died

whispering in the dark

falling in line in broken patterns

one by one

two by two

stifled in its breath and unable to rise..

the night the dance died

no more songs of joy

only a colorful façade lights the way

before the last stanza repeats

dreaming of itself and imagining

the journey beyond...

the night the dance died

© 2012 PoetryofMotion!

All Rights Reserved

i wish...once...now...

I wish... that i knew back then what i knew now, without the lessons...that i could write in 7 languages...that chocolate was the universal currency...that there was no such thing as hypocrisy...that tomorrow was promised...that people would only make promises they could really keep...that life didn't hurt so much sometimes...that no child would ever have to cry...

~ from "Images Emerging III"